What is Love?
by almister12
Summary: Emma is up late one night, unable to fall asleep. She starts thinking of all the men in her life that she has "loved" and how that relates to Killian. This was the first piece of fanfiction I ever wrote.


Emma heard the soft breathing of Killian next to her. She turned her head ever so slightly to the side to look at the man sleeping next to her. His eyes fluttered, and she was careful not to make a sound as she brought her head back up to look at the ceiling. It was nearing 2:00 in the morning, but she couldn't sleep.

Emma racked her brain to decide what was keeping her up so late on a Wednesday evening, or really, a Thursday morning. Back when she lived with her mother three years ago, there was a solid month where she woke up too early to be up for the day, but too late to fall back asleep. Mary Margaret had suggested that there must be something big on her mind, and that was the reason she wasn't sleeping well. Emma lied there, watching the still fan above her as she thought through everything going on in her life right now, trying to decide which event was causing her sleep deprivation.

But she came up blank. The town had been relatively still since they defeated Zelena and she moved back to Storybrooke. Regina and her were not fighting about Henry anymore, and Henry seemed much happier because of it. She adored her new little brother, and couldn't help but smile whenever she thought about how much joy he brought her parents. She had finished unpacking, reclaimed her job as sheriff, and everything was as it should be. Her life was good right now.

So what was it? Why was she still awake?

Killian took a deep breath and rolled to his side. Her stomach churned, hoping she hadn't woken him up, but when he went back to a slow rhythm, she could tell he was still asleep. She carefully turned until she was facing him. Starting with his forehead, she scanned his face, watching the man next to him sleep, memorizing every inch. The sides of her cheeks turned up, thinking how lucky she was to have someone who cared for her so much in her life.

_What about Neal?_ A soft voice echoed in her head. Emma swallowed at the thought of her son's father, looking away from the man lying next to her and out the window. Emma didn't know why, but she hated looking at Killian if she was thinking about Neal. _He cared for you, too. _She couldn't deny that it was true, that Neal had cared for her at one point. And, if it weren't for him, Henry wouldn't even be here.

_He did it because he loved you._ The thought tugged at her. Emma now knew the reasons behind her 11 months in prison. But, the memories of her time there, being pregnant in a cell, clouds her judgment every time she tries to excuse Neal from his actions. She had forgiven him, but she has not forgotten.

_He was your first love. _She was a teenager when she first met him, and he really had been her first love. But, could she even know what love was when she was that young? She had never experienced it growing up, so the feelings she had for him may not have been love. Emma decided she couldn't have loved Neal, because she was too naive to know what that even meant.

Killian rolled again, Emma's eyes shooting back to him to make sure he was still asleep. A single snore came out of his mouth, and she couldn't help but silently giggle at it. Emma lied on her back, again looking up at the light fixture above her bed.

_You loved Graham, too._ Emma took a deep breath. She tried not to think of Graham very much. His death came too soon, and she sometimes wonders what would have happened if he was still here. Would she be married to him? Would she have Humbert toddlers running around her house by now? _He was a good man._ She thought, painfully. She no longer wore his shoelace around her wrist, but lying two feet from her, tucked into the back corner of her nightstand, was a balled up tangle of tan string. Reaching her left arm out, she opened the drawer and felt around until her fingers covered the string. She brought it out and unrolled it, looking at the lace in the moonlight.

_When did you stop wearing it?_ She couldn't remember the exact date, but the memory of rolling it up and sticking it in the drawer was still fresh if she thought about it. Killian never asked her to take it off – he was too unselfish to even think that. Emma decided it was because she didn't need it anymore. At the time, it had made her feel safe, made her feel loved. It gave her strength when all signs showed that she should be weak.

But, did she really love Graham? Three years ago, when he first died, she thought she did. He was the first man to give her any feelings in the 10 years since Neal left. She had dated other men, but he gave meaning behind just a "date". Thinking back, though, she realized she hadn't known him for very long. They had only two kisses, with Graham initiating a very drunken first one. Two kisses and some unresolved feelings weren't love. She definitely cared for him, but she didn't love him.

She threw his shoelace back into the drawer, shutting it a little too loudly. Killian took a deep breath at the noise, but continued his slumber. Her eyes drifted to the flower on top of her nightstand. It was a single white rose given to her by Killian last night. It was starting to bloom, and she felt another smile covering her face. Next to the flower was her alarm clock. 2:45.

_Did you love Walsh?_ Her stomach knotted up at his name. During the eight months she knew him, yes, she honestly loved him. But, it was based on lies. Even if he hadn't turned out to be working for Zelena, her life was not real. Killian had told her that over and over again when she was still planning to leave for New York. _No_. She thought. _I didn't love Walsh._

Tired of just lying in bed, Emma huffed while standing up, leaving her bedroom. She didn't even look back to see if she had woken up Killian. Taking two steps at a time, she went down to the bottom floor. She found her way to her favorite chair, heavily cushioned and worn from all the times she sat in it. Pulling the blanket that had been thrown on the floor over her, she tucked her knees under herself as she laid her head on an accent pillow. She closed her eyes, hoping her favorite chair would help her fall asleep.

_Do you love Killian? _Her eyes, barely just closed, immediately shot open. She had never said the words to him, or even admitted it in her head. What did she know of love? The three men she had thought she loved, she now understood that she didn't.

But what she felt for Killian was different. Her breathing sped every time she thought of him. Her palms sweated when he said her name. Her knees wobbled when he came into a room she was in. Her cheeks turned a soft pink when he pecked her with his lips. Any fantasy she had about the bedroom was nothing compared to her nights with Killian. Seeing Henry and him together always made her heart swell. And, to top it off, her heart beat so fast at the very sight of him.

She never had similar feelings with another person before. What did it mean? _I think you know._ Her mind said to her. She took a deep breath. No, he was just another guy she's dating, that's it. _Has he ever hurt you?_ Her thoughts replied. _Hasn't he proven to you he isn't leaving? _

_I don't know what love is!_ She shouted back in her head. No one could love her. She was too broken, too unlovable. How could anyone love her?

_You know that's not true._ Her mind responded in a taunting tone. _He does. He loves you._

She turned her head to the empty stairs that led to her bedroom, where Killian was sleeping. Could she love him? _He makes you happy._ Yes, he does. _He makes you laugh, holds you when you cry._ True. _You know he loves you_.

Suddenly, as if on cue, Killian walked out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes. His hair was messy from the half night of sleep he's had, and the only thing he was wearing were the red plaid pajama pants she bought him. "Where did you go, love?" He asked while coming down. "I reached my hand over only to feel the mattress, cold from being empty."

"I couldn't sleep." Emma responded. "You should go back to bed. You look tired."

"If you're up, I'm up," he stated like it was a fact. Killian grabbed a kitchen table chair and brought it over to where she was. He set it down in front of her and sat. Emma peered into his deep blue eyes, imagining all the adventures he had gone on for 300 years. "Now, Swan, what is troubling you?" He grinned, "Or, we could do other, more pleasurable activities, if that would please you more."

His innuendo bounced right off her. "Nothing. I'm fine," She replied, a little too quickly.

Killian snickered, "Oh, yes. It is 3:15 in the morning and we're both wide-awake. Clearly everything is fine." Leaning in a little closer, he said, "Remember, you're an open book to me. I can tell when you aren't telling me the truth."

Breaking his gaze, Emma looked down at her feet, picking at the burgundy nail polish on her left big toe. As much as she could muster, which was all too quiet, she asked, "How could you love me?" Taking a deep breath, she continued, "Why would you love me?"

She sat there, waiting for an answer for what felt like hours. Finally, Killian reached one finger under her chin and lifted her face up until she was forced to look at him again. He had a heartbreaking look on his face, and it killed her to see him like that. He just stared at her, not saying anything. Not knowing what else to do, Emma looked back. Slowly, he stood up, grabbing her hand, and brought her to the loveseat so they could sit by each other. Pulling her in, he kissed the top of her head, and held her like that. Before she could help herself, tears began welling in her eyes, and her breathing became shorter. Killing stroked her back with the tip of his handless arm while his thumb gently glided over her chin. "Emma," he finally started, "Why would you even think those thoughts?"

With tears still rolling down her face and her voice cracking, she replied, "Because I don't know what love is." Her unsuccessful attempts to calm down were making her lean into his chest more. She could smell the mixture of rum and sweat as he continued to rub her back. "And if I don't know one of the simplest emotions, how could anyone love me?" Her voice jumped a little. "I'm far too broken," she almost whispered.

He sat there for a while before responding, his arm going up and down her back, his hand making it's way to her hair. His deep breaths started to calm her until her breathing became in time with his. "I'm broken, too," he said in a pitch higher than his normal voice. "Maybe I don't know what love is, either, and maybe what I feel for you is not love." Killian turned Emma's head until she could peer into his eyes. "Upon Milah's death, I spent 300 years without love. Do I even remember what love is?" Emma sat up, looking at him with doting eyes, blinking away her tears. "I could be just as clueless about what love is as you are feeling right now. But, I do know one thing. I know I would do anything for you, fight anything for you." After wiping away a single tear on her face, he said, "I'd go to the bottom of the ocean or the highest star in the sky for you. Emma, you mean more to me than words can describe."

After searching for a hint of deception, Emma quickly brought her lips against his, giving him a long, passionate kiss. It was soft, with no urgency there, one that mirrored their kiss outside of Granny's diner months ago. Breaking away only because she had to take a breath, Emma measured him to try to figure out what he was thinking. She couldn't look long, though, because before she knew it, Killian leaned back down into her, making her stomach flutter with every move his lips made.

After a while, Emma looked at him and said, "I think I love you, Killian."

He smiled, "I think I love you, too, Emma." With a last peck on her check, they stood up, holding hands, and slowly going back to their bedroom. Killian helped Emma into her side of the bed, pulled the covers over her, and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Swan."

He made his way around the bed, slowly got in on his side, and she grabbed his arm. She pulled it up to her mouth and quickly brushed her lips against his stump. "Goodnight, Killian."

Within minutes, Emma drifted off to sleep.


End file.
